 | [Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) |  |
XXXVI
The star is yet in the vault of heaven,
But it rocks in the summer gale;
And now 'tis fitful and uneven,
And now 'tis deadly pale;
And now 'tis wrapped in sulphur smoke,
And quenched is its rayless beam;
And now with a rattling thunder-stroke,
It bursts in flash and flame.
As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance
Which the storm-spirit flings from high,
The star-shoot flew o'er the welkin blue,
As it fell from the sheeted sky.
As swift as the wind in its trail behind,
The elfin gallops along;
The fiends of the cloud are bellowing loud,
But the sylphid charm is strong;
He gallops unhurt in the shower of fire,
While the cloud-fiends shrink from the blaze;
He watches each flake till its sparks expire,
And rides in the light of its rays.
But he drove his steed to the lightning's speed,
And he caught a glimmering spark;
Then wheeled around to the haunted ground,
And sped through the midnight dark.
But it rocks in the summer gale;
And now 'tis fitful and uneven,
And now 'tis deadly pale;
And now 'tis wrapped in sulphur smoke,
And quenched is its rayless beam;
And now with a rattling thunder-stroke,
It bursts in flash and flame.
As swift as the glance of the arrowy lance
172
The star-shoot flew o'er the welkin blue,
As it fell from the sheeted sky.
As swift as the wind in its trail behind,
The elfin gallops along;
The fiends of the cloud are bellowing loud,
But the sylphid charm is strong;
He gallops unhurt in the shower of fire,
While the cloud-fiends shrink from the blaze;
He watches each flake till its sparks expire,
And rides in the light of its rays.
But he drove his steed to the lightning's speed,
And he caught a glimmering spark;
Then wheeled around to the haunted ground,
And sped through the midnight dark.
Ouphe and goblin! imp and sprite!
Elf of eve! and starry fay!
Ye that love the moon's light,
Hither—hither wing your way;
Join ye in a jocund ring,
Hand to hand, and wing to wing,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
Elf of eve! and starry fay!
Ye that love the moon's light,
Hither—hither wing your way;
173
Hand to hand, and wing to wing,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
Hail the wanderer again,
With dance and song, and lute and lyre,
Pure his wing and strong his chain,
And doubly bright his fairy fire.
Then twine ye in an eerie round,
Brush the dew and print the lea;
Skip and gambol, hop and bound,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
With dance and song, and lute and lyre,
Pure his wing and strong his chain,
And doubly bright his fairy fire.
Then twine ye in an eerie round,
Brush the dew and print the lea;
Skip and gambol, hop and bound,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
The beetle guards our holy ground,
He flies about the haunted place,
And if mortal there be found,
He hums in his ears and flaps his face;
The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay,
The owlet's eyes our lanthornes be;
Thus we revel, dance and play,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
He flies about the haunted place,
And if mortal there be found,
He hums in his ears and flaps his face;
174
The owlet's eyes our lanthornes be;
Thus we revel, dance and play,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
But hark! from tower on tree-top high,
The sentry elf his call has made,
A streak is in the eastern sky,
Shapes of moonlight flit and fade!
The hillock gleams in morning spring,
The skylark shakes his dappled wing,
The day-glimpse glistens on the lawn,
The cocks have crowed, the fays are gone.
The sentry elf his call has made,
A streak is in the eastern sky,
Shapes of moonlight flit and fade!
The hillock gleams in morning spring,
The skylark shakes his dappled wing,
The day-glimpse glistens on the lawn,
The cocks have crowed, the fays are gone.
| [Poems by Drake in] The life and works of Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) | |